[Open] Settling in, or trying

[withermarked]

Who: Faulkner, Sidestep, anyone!
Status: Open + closed prompts
Where: Cosmo Conservatory, Nogard, possibly others
What: Faulkner is settling in (badly) on Nogard, volunteering at the conservatory, and getting help learning to care for the creatures there. Plus any other catch-all threads.
Warnings: Mild violence + very non-detailed references to nightmares and poor mental health in the Nogard prompt; potential for heavier references to character deaths or suicidal ideation but will warn if anything goes that way.


Nogard // a fracturing and grieving mind

To be perfectly honest, Faulkner already can’t remember the last time he got a good night’s sleep. But his people were polite about it, back home. They gave him worried glances, they made hushed comments to each other, but they didn’t scold him.

They made a point not to mention it when he woke up screaming in the small hours of the night. When he rolled out of bed and hit the floor with an awkward clatter and stumbled out of his chambers in a blind panic.

No one here, on the other hand, has any reason to walk on eggshells around the newcomer. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse, but he’s pretty damn certain he’s getting on at least a few people’s nerves either way.

Sleeping on the starter ship was… not helping, which he probably should have predicted. He’s not used to actually being on a boat, the swaying and rocking and everything else that come along with that would take some time to adjust to even if he didn’t feel like the water was, just possibly, out to get him personally.

But sleeping on the skeletal island–in what feels like the belly of something his world would consider a God, is also not helping.

Which is how he found himself with someone knocking on the wall of his apartment and politely asking him if he’d mind shutting the fuck up. Reasonable request, all things considered. He decides to cut his losses and go on (another) late night walk.

Perhaps you find him pacing the streets, anxiously keeping an eye out for anything unexpected.

Perhaps you find him lounging on a pier, doing his best to look on the bright side: at least he’s up early enough to watch the sunrise.

Or perhaps you spot him in the corner of a pub, shrinking back further into the corner to avoid the rowdy brawl that seems to have broken out nearby. Someone is cheering on one of the sides, and someone else appears to be taking bets. The whole thing has resulted in a drink spilling across his table.

“Bait an’ flesh,” he mutters, “can’t a guy catch one break?”

Cosmo Conservatory // and beautiful things will grow

Faulkner, true to his word, appears to be spending most of his time volunteering at the Conservatory; often showing up early or staying late. When he has a task he tends to stick to that task with an unusually focused level of determination, and right now he desperately needs a task. Anything to concentrate on, anything to find meaning in–however small.

Anything he can tell himself is a good first step in proving how much he can change; a good opening chapter for a new story.

Not that determination alone is enough to make him good at a job, and he’s taking to parts of it notably faster than others.

Gardening seems to come naturally. He’s careful, methodical, and precise. He’s good at details, and measurements, and even seems to have an overall eye for beauty. Plants are simple, predictable, and comforting.

Animals on the other hand: he hasn’t got that much experience with animals, normal ones or otherwise. They fascinated him as a kid, all the things that lived in the woods–both the ones people believed him about and the ones they didn’t. But he never had pets, or livestock.

And so he’s… doing his best.

You might find him trying to coax a goat down from the roof, without having to resort to getting help. It does not appear to have any interest in listening to him.

Or you might find him scurrying back suddenly from a mimic that decided to nip at his fingers after he made the mistake of thinking it wanted him to pet it.

Perhaps you spot him trying to wrestle his bagged lunch away from an oversized dachshund-like puppy with more heads than he has hands. He does not appear likely to win this one, but at least the dog seems to be having fun.

“C’mon, that’s not yours! Pretty sure it’s not good for you, either. Least there’s no chocolate…”

Wildcard
Feel free to throw anything else my way (he'll also be generally exploring, and poking around potion shops) or hit me up for closed prompts on discord (strixoid) or badgirlcoven

Comments

learning the ropes | closed to Sidestep

[withermarked]

Faulkner is pacing near the entrance to the Conservatory. He’s some combination of twitchy, sullen, and anxious.

At least until he spots Chris, at which point he immediately plasters a cheerful grin on his face and shifts his posture in a very familiar way: both more casual and taking up less space. Friendly and harmless and curious. It does nothing to hide the more obvious effects of just how little sleep he’s been getting–like the dark bags under those almost unsettlingly big blue eyes, but it’s habit all the same.

He gives them a little wave, heading their way.

“Hey, thanks for showin’ me around some more,” he begins, “the professor introduced me to some of the critters an’ showed me where the gardening things were–we mostly talked about me taking that on–but with everything that’s, uh, going on…”

And he’ll probably just kind of keep talking, unless Chris actually stops him. Earnest pest is the persona that comes easiest, after all.

Not that it’s just a persona as such. It’s part of who he is, just a matter of picking and choosing what’s appropriate for the circumstances. Less Prophet, more… annoying little brother.

No, it’s not a lie; well, most of it’s not a lie. He’s certainly pretending to like Chris more than he does. Chris is… grating.

But perhaps he should look at it another way.

Isn’t it a novelty, at this point, for someone to feel like they can speak to him with so much disrespect? Yes. There’s a freedom in no one having expectations of him. That’s a much more comforting way to see things. He may be no one here, but that proves he has the chance to start over.

[telepathicignorance]

Yeah whatever kid, the (grating) feeling's mutual.

Because seriously, why did they agree to this? They don't like this kid, and they're starting to like him even less now that they're hit with his stupid thoughts about how apparently the chore of hanging out with them is a good thing. Like they're serving some kind of purpose. For fucks sake, really?

"Sure kid." They wave off his gratitude with a very tired sort of dismissiveness, but they don't quit or leave or try and start a fight because there's the rub: with all the shit that's going on, they can't afford to not have Faulkner helping out with the animals.

"Should probably start with the less weird animals, I guess."

[withermarked]

And he just sort of chooses to willfully ignore the way they try to wave his attitude off. He'll win them over eventually, he tells himself. But he'll do it on his own merit, as some version of himself, as whoever he's choosing to be here. He'll be charming, he'll prove how good and useful he is... yes.

"I wonder which ones are less weird to you? Seems like everyone here has got a different idea about that stuff," he simply... prattles on.

"Everything in the professor's world sounds different to me. Well. Some of them would be angels, at home, of course. So maybe it's not too far off, but we don't have ours fight for sports."

[telepathicignorance]

Fuck you, Dick, they're gonna be ruder than ever now.

...Except no, they have to make sure that Faulkner knows how to do this stuff.

"Pretty sure the Pokémon enjoy it." Since when did they start caring about things and helping people like this? They're supposed to be a villain: how far have they fallen?

"But since you already know about those, let's start there. You seen the water dragons yet?"

[withermarked]

"So I'm told." He doesn't sound like he doubts this idea, at least not any more than any other part of it. If it all sounds far-fetched why draw the line there?

"No, I... didn't see those," he says with just a touch more hesitation than he's been showing. There's some conflict there; his long-term love of strange water-dwelling creatures at war with the fact that the idea of being near the water at all often makes him feel just a little bit sick lately.

"But they sound neat," he adds, quickly. "Never did see a dragon back home."

[telepathicignorance]

"Huh. So you have angels but no dragons, or...?"

Of course, they don't really know what saints and angels are in his world, though they think Saints might be like some form of enhanced, or Re-Genes.

Externally, they shrug. "They don't need special diets and aren't likely to attack you." And so ...off to the ocean exhibit?

cw: body horror

[withermarked]

"Angels can look like a lot of things," Faulkner points out with a shrug. He's not quite sure what the word means to people here--clearly it does mean something.

There's a flicker in his mind, something dark and towering on stilt legs with pincers and spikes and eye-stalks and... dog faces? Those almost looked like strangely stretched dog faces across its carapace. But Faulkner doesn't think about it for long.

Instead, he'll just follow Chris to the ocean exhibit, doing his best to stick to 'cheerful and curious.'

[telepathicignorance]

They actually flinch slightly at that mental image. Fortunately, they've turned away and started walking towards the ocean exhibit at this point.

They really hope that wasn't an actual dog once. Or ...pack of dogs. They didn't deserve that.

"What are Angels, anyway?"

The viewing caves underneath the ocean area are spectacular, truly a sight to see. But they're here to feed the animals, not watch them, so they stay on the surface instead.

[withermarked]

There's something odd in the idea of having to explain this from scratch at all but he thinks for a moment before trying.

"Angels are... manifestations of divinity? Servants and messengers that a God made whole-cloth from the elements," he begins, thinking about ways he's heard it phrased.

"Or animals, reshaped in their image," he continues, mind flickering back to the Sentinels briefly.

"Things constructed by man can be Angels too, if they're given life through prayer-marks," he adds, remembering the stories about the Saint Electric's pylons ripping themselves from their wires to wander across the landscape.

[telepathicignorance]

That's... they clench their fist at the thought of putting dogs--or any of the other animals they've come to like--through that.

"And saints?" They ask, to distract themself from the thought. Though, given what they've already sensed, they doubt the answer will be any better.

[withermarked]

"Saints are... humans that have been reshaped in a God's image," he says, and seems a little unsure whether to give more detail than that.

It's not that he wants to lie, there's no reason to lie, but so many people seem surprised when he says anything about his world, and he does have to wonder what they'd think of the people from there, the more they knew. Even if those people are simply living with the lot they've been dealt in life.

But his mind flickers through examples of Saints, as he considers. Something that looks a lot like a giant beetle larva. Something that looks a lot like a shrimp. An almost cartoonishly stylised image of a woman, arms outstretched, inside an electrified lantern cage.

"You don't have anythin' like either, where you're from?"

[telepathicignorance]

"Where I'm from, I'm not even sure we have gods. People believe in them, but they don't do anything."

Which is probably absolutely wild to someone like Faulkner.

"Peope can ...change, but it's usually through drugs or specialized prostetics."

[withermarked]

There's a little hitch in his breath at the way Chris phrases the first part that might be a snort or might be something else.

Maybe it would be better for everyone, in a world without gods. He can barely picture it, but he has to wonder. On the other hand, would that really be so different from a world where the Gods you believe in already don't do a damn thing when you really need them?

Not that he says any of that.

"Your world sounds... very different. But so does everyone's, seems like."

cosmo conservatory

[empyrean_mirror]

Hey, is your hand alright?

[maybe Richard's seen Kaveh from a distance before. Maybe he hasn't. Either way, there is a very tall blond man coming by to kneel near the Bitey Mimic, passing it a dubloon coin for it to gnaw on happily.

Don't worry about the flower crown he's wearing. It's fine.]

[withermarked]

[Faulkner is startled, but it's only a second before he puts on a cheerful grin, and makes a point of double checking said hand.]

Still got all my fingers, don't worry about me.

[A little pause.]

I think I've seen you around... but I know we haven't formally met. You can call me Faulkner.

[empyrean_mirror]

I'm not here as often as I'd like.

[Kaveh smiles, but he is peering a little at Faulkner's fingers, just trying to see if there's any blood...]

I'm Kaveh. I'm sorry about the mimics, they don't really have any way to interact with the world but biting things.

[withermarked]

[Fortunately, he escaped with all his all his blood... but not all his fingernails in tact. Or maybe he's just been chewing those himself.]

Pleasure to meet'cha. That makes sense, but I don't know if I trust the little guy to bite gentle.

[empyrean_mirror]

That's probably wise.

[He gives the little bugger a side-eye, but still gently tapped the top of the mimic with a finger. Get booped on, loser!

The mimic is notably thrilled.]

You haven't been in the world long, right?

[withermarked]

[He watches this, but decides not to push his luck for the moment.]

That's right. Haven't been here long and I'm... still figuring out my way around.

[And maybe he's just a bit sheepish, or maybe he deliberately shifts his posture to seem just a fraction smaller. Who's to say.]

[empyrean_mirror]

[Richie it's okay Kaveh's already nearly six feet tall you don't gotta be taller.]

That's alright. It's all pretty overwhelming, the first few months, and nothing really slows down to give anyone room to breathe. You don't have to push yourself too hard to keep up.

[withermarked]

[And yet. What is he trying to achieve? Good question.]

Truthfully it is overwhelming... but right now I just want to help where I can. The professor was kind to me and then—well, everything that happened. I still can't say I've really followed it all too well.

[empyrean_mirror]

[Kaveh's expression darkens. It's probably fine. He's not very intimidating, right?]

...I have some theories about it, but I'm afraid it's not any less complicated for having been here a year.

[He sighs, and shakes his head.] Well. I'm sure the Professor won't be kept captive for too long, if Mr. Dojima has anything to say about it--[Gonna act like you didn't give him smoke bombs, Kaveh?]--so don't worry too much.

[withermarked]

[Faulkner is used to much more visibly intimidating people, if nothing else. He doesn't seem concerned.]

...I'll do my best not to.

[But perhaps this isn't the best subject, even if a part of him really would like more context.]

You've been here a whole year?

[empyrean_mirror]

A year and...[He pauses, thinking back.] Five months? It'll be a year and a half in a couple weeks.

[Kaveh sighs, and shakes his head a bit.] There are a few people who've been here longer--I think the Professor and Doujima both have--but not by much. I can promise you, this world doesn't make much sense if it's been one month or one year.

[withermarked]

Well, that... doesn't make me feel much better, I'll admit.

[But then he does his best to shrug it off, visibly at least.]

Keep hoping someone else will be able to explain it all. But I guess there's something in not being the only one feeling lost.